


Lullaby

by HeatherGiesbrecht



Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: Bedrooms, Beds, Breakfast, British, British English, British Slang, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brother/Sister Incest, Bugs & Insects, Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Canonical Child Abuse, Children, Cold, Comfort, Complete, Creepy, Creepy Fluff, Crimson Peak Spoilers, Dark, Darkness, Eating, Emotional Manipulation, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Fear, Fire, Fluff, Het, Implied Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Love, Lullabies, Murder, Murderers, Nighttime, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Child, POV Female Character, POV Third Person, Poisoning, Pre-Crimson Peak, Secret Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Singing, Tea, Victorian, Victorian Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:51:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6066160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeatherGiesbrecht/pseuds/HeatherGiesbrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The coldness of Cumberland could at times inspire and so it had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lullaby

A speckled moth, Aria, crawled over the ceiling which throbbed with her milling brethren. She could no longer resist the lure of iridescence far below, she let go...And flew straight into the fire that was attempting to lift the chill from Allerdale Hall’s nursery. Every once in awhile there would be a small burst of flame - another moth drawn to her doom. Finally, the fire died and the bedroom with its already darkly painted walls plunged into further blackness.

Thin and clear as a silver bell, a girl’s voice echoed through the room. “The bough will break and down will come cradle, baby and all.” In harmony with Lucille’s fading final note the moths flew away. She was crestfallen, she had rather enjoyed watching them commit suicide. Lucille felt her brows furrow as Thomas shuddered in her arms. Slowly, she lifted a hand above the thin blanket to brush a hair from his forehead. Her breath misted as she whispered, “What is it, Thomas ?”

Thomas's voice shook, “I don’t like it. Papa would have done that to us - broken the tree, I mean.”

Even for eight years old he was innocent, more oft than not he wandered in daydreams. She knew that Papa would have done far worse than merely break the tree - like choke them with smoke and laugh all the while. Would have, those were the important words.

Lucille stared at Thomas before her face turned soft as the crimson clay upon which the house stood. “He is dead, Thomas, he cannot hurt you, not anymore. I saved you from him, I saved you.”

Thomas’s face was pale as moonlight in the gloom and contrasted rather beautifully with the loose waves of black hair and those dark blue eyes. Thomas was still perfect, Thomas was safe. No more would Papa try to strangle Thomas or leave him to winter’s bitter heart so that she need rescue and tend him. Far too close had she come to losing him when his lips were cobalt blue. No more would Papa beat her with a riding crop and make her count the lashes for defying him.

Papa’s hunting accident...oh, she still wanted to laugh. Hardly could she believe that the old servant, Finlay, hadn’t questioned his master’s increasing fatigue and weakness of bowels in the time leading up to his death. Yes, Papa had deserved to know the same humiliation that Thomas had whilst taking the laudanum for his chill. It just so happened that a combination of poison and laxatives had produced the same effect.

That Finlay also had not questioned the saddle strap which had conveniently snapped causing the rifle’s recoil to knock Papa from his horse and shatter his skull made her wonder if the old fool was on their side. If so then she need only deal with Mama to protect Thomas from his infractions - accidentally dropping the china, Mama’s favourite bottle of wine etc. He was quite clumsy, really.

Thomas buried his head against her throat, thereby muffling his response. “I love you, Lucille. Thank you.”

The east wind sucked the house’s many chimneys shut causing them to rattle violently. Thomas whimpered and again shuddered, before she pulled him closer still to stroke his nape. A verse which had fluttered about her head in the last days now joined together.

“Let the wind blow kindly

in the sails of your dreams

and the moon light your journey

and bring you to me.

 

We can’t live in the mountains

we can’t live out at sea

where oh, where oh

my lover can I meet with thee ?”

Thomas didn’t answer and she hummed a melody for her, for their, new lullaby. Her brother deserved a nice breakfast tomorrow morning, in compensation for her having scared him, if nothing else. A moth fluttered to land above her bed. Absently, she plucked it from the headboard and black wings stilled as she studied it. What a horrid little creature. Claws clicked as a corpulent rat scurried into the room. Now bored she dropped the moth on the floor - ugly creatures deserved ugly food. The rat immediately took advantage of its stunned prey and bit the moth’s head off. It was Aria’s mother.


	2. Warm

Lucille hummed as she looked over the tray for Thomas's breakfast. A bowl of porridge along with some rashers and though it was utterly unladylike to swear, “Bollocks, I forgot the tea.”

She turned, grabbed the towel and hefted the pot of boiling water off the fire. When she had made the tea she filled Thomas’s cup, put it on the silver tray then picked it up. White tile gleamed as she left the kitchen, turned down the long hallway past the women’s servant quarters crossed the foyer and made her way into the dining hall.

The dining hall's ornate yet faded dark oak table was capable of seating fifty people, so it was a rather sorry sight to see only Thomas sat there. Said table was the only thing left to suggest that their home was once the central hub of all Cumberland. Set high above the diamond chandelier had not been lit in over two years instead the cobalt walls weakly lit by a candelabrum set on the table’s defacto middle. Despite her best efforts the tray still clinked as she put it down startling Thomas.

“Lucille, you really should have brought Mama hers first. What if she...,”

Sternly, she cut him off, “Mama will never find out unless you tell on me. You wouldn’t do that would you ?”

Thomas shook his head and, unconsciously, she glanced about before kissing him. With a soft sigh, she returned to the kitchen, got Mama’s tray then ascended the grand staircase and then on the first landing turned left into the master bedroom. Envy filled her as warmth instantaneously wrapped about her like a cloak this fire blazed with no signs of stopping. Mama made sure always that the beige wallpapered room had a few cords of wood stacked beside the fireplace to stave off her arthritis, which considerably worsened her limp.

Mama’s silver hair splayed across the white pillows and spilt onto the cobalt blankets. Even asleep Mama looked horrid and weathered though it was better still than when she was awake. Quite deliberately this time, she bumped the tray on the nightstand. Mama was always easy to wake.

Near instantly, dark blue-grey eyes opened to glare at her over a sharply hooked nose. “What are you doing, girl ?”

With even tone, Lucille replied, “I made breakfast and tea for you.”

“Good, now, get out.”

“Yes, Mama.”

As she backed out into the chilled hallway she thought that someday it was going to be her and Thomas’s bedroom. Someday.


End file.
